


You have my permission

by Narcissa1996



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Aftercare, F/M, Smut, Sub!Tom, Submissive Tom Hiddleston, switch!tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:55:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28701051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narcissa1996/pseuds/Narcissa1996
Summary: Tom throws a tantrum and his mistress gives him more than what he bargained for.
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s), Tom Hiddleston/Reader, Tom Hiddleston/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 35





	You have my permission

**Author's Note:**

> Sub!Tom lives rent free in my mind.

She strolled inside the bedroom behind Tom, her fingers dexterously removing the heavy earrings that were weighing down her earlobes painfully. Setting them down on the dresser with a relieved sigh, she turned to Tom whose back to her as he crouched down and took off his shoes. What a nice ass, she mused with a grin. 

"A bath or a movie, which do you fancy?" She asked, offering him the choice. Tom had seemed off at dinner, not his usual cheerful self and she was concerned. Yet, truth be told, she was tired and though a bath was relaxing perspective, she doubted she'd have the energy to leave the tub once the water lost its warmth, but those were two activities she knew Tom enjoyed particularly and she wanted to treat her good boy to a pleasant evening. 

"I don't care." 

She stopped in her tracks even as she opened the drawer for a fresh nightdress, a frown taking over her face. "What was that?" 

"I don't care." Tom repeated more forcefully. 

She had heard him right the first time, then. Hiding her surprise well, she cocked an eyebrow at him. "I'll remind you, darling, that's not how you speak to me." 

Tom was barefoot now but standing up to his full height by the bed, an expression on his face that she wasn't acquainted with. "Or what?" He sneered with sarcasm, so far from the sweet boy she knew. 

With an eye roll, she dropped the night dress on the bed. Tom had already broken so many rules within the past minute, but she was feeling clement. After all, unlike him, she had enjoyed herself immensely at dinner. 

"What is it, Thomas? Why are you being so fussy tonight?" She sighed with resignation. As much as his attitude was grating on her nerves, she needed to know that he was alright. "Come on, sit down," she ordered gently, patting the mattress next to her. 

"No!" 

"No?" She was giving him one last chance. 

To her surprise, Tom groaned, his hands tightening into fists for a moment before loosening again. "No, I will not sit down just because you told me to, not after..." 

Her patience with him was thinning down to a hair width. This was not how she had envisioned their evening, but she would spend the night punishing him if she had to. 

"Either you tell me exactly what's going on, Thomas, or you'll spend the next couple of days with a painful bottom," she promised, crossing her arms over her chest and just barely resisting tapping her foot on the floor. 

His face changed at once. Tom knew those weren't idle threats. He winced, remembering the last time she had uttered those words. Still, he couldn't shake off the fury that gnawed at him from the inside. 

"I did not like our waiter tonight, nor the way you behaved with him." Tom finally confessed though his voice remained petulant.

She was unable to hold back a scoff. Was her good boy acting out because he was jealous? "Really? I thought he was very efficient, and I treated him the same respect I do all other people." 

Tom's eyes widened at her statement and suddenly all she could see was their light, vibrant blue. “He spent the entire evening with his eyes glued onto your cleavage! He touched your hand when he filled your glass! And you didn't even say anything, you just let him do it!" He spat accusatorily. 

A tantrum, then, she concluded, leaning back against the wall with an amused smirk as she sized him up. Thomas has misbehaved in the past - some small misdemeanours here or there that had warranted a proportionate disciplinary response from her - but this was on an entirely different level. For some reason, punishment didn't seem like the appropriate response this time around. 

"Very well, Tom. You've made your case and I’ve listened." She saw it in his eyes, relief washing over the sizzling emotion that she now recognised as jealousy. "What is your solution?" 

Tom didn't manage to hide his reaction at her words. He felt put on the spot, her taunting stare intimidating him more than any handcuffs or collar ever could, and without the comfort that came with them. The usually eloquent man stuttered. "I don't know, mistress," he admitted, all sudden burst of courage gone but the look on her face let him know she wasn’t satisfied with the answer. "I just need to know you're as much mine as I'm yours, mistress." 

He was back to being her good boy, it appeared, puppy eyes begging to be forgiven for his previous outburst. She licked her lower lip, anticipating the fun that was to come, before nodding as she tilted her head. This was a great occasion for a lesson, she decided. "Let me be yours, then. You have my permission." 

Tom blinked once, then twice. Stunned didn’t begin to cover it. Was she really...? No, it couldn't be. "I'm quite not sure I understand, mistress." 

She cocked her brow at his reaction. Oh, this was going to be so much better than a movie or a soak. Lightly waving her hand at herself, she made it crystal clear to him. 

"I'm yours tonight, to do as you please." Thomas gulped at her offer - no - her command, feeling his Adam's apple tightening just like his trousers. "Claim me, mark me, ravish me. Whatever you want - I can take it.” She paused, letting the words sink in. “Isn't that what you wanted, darling?" She goaded him. 

Tom was taken aback, so much so, he didn’t know what to say, let alone what to do. He’d never been in this position before. With other women, sure. But her? His mistress? His only mistress? He wouldn’t lie and pretend the thought had never crossed his mind, but it was never more than some delirious fantasies that taunted him when she kept him teetering on the edge for hours on end and his sanity became scarce. Tom tried to recall what he did to all the women before her, how he had his way with them before… before his mistress helped him discover who he was and what he truly needed. 

He gazed upon her again, taking in the way she was waiting for him to do something, head cocked expectantly, exposing the slender column of her neck, the upward tilt op her lip never quite turning into a smirk yet not straying far from it. She was taunting him, testing him. Tom that even if he seized control now, it would be at her demand. No matter what he did, she’d still have the upper hand. She was not giving herself to him the way he gave herself to her. No, she was simply humouring him like a pet. And it made him want nothing more than to make her choke on her words. 

I can take it, she’d said. He would be the judge of that, he vowed. 

With two long strides, he crossed the room, stopping only he had crowded her against the navy wall. Even with the black high heels she fancied, Tom towered over her. His fingers went to her chin, tilting her face upwards and forcing her to look into his eyes before he leant down and kissed her ferociously. He let his tongue invade her mouth, the back of her head hitting the wall behind her as their teeth clicked together. And then he hesitated, a small pause in his moves as if he waited once again for her permission. Instead, she smiled against his lips, encouraging him silently and then gasped in mouth under the reprised assault, surprising both of them with the sweet sound. 

Tom broke off the kiss, tracing his lips along her jawline before settling on the soft spot beneath her earlobe. She flinched against him when he started sucking on her skin, stopping only to alternate with nibbles. To his surprise, she didn’t protest. In lieu of that, she was oddly compliant under his touch even as the guilty feeling that he was doing something naughty and forbidden invaded him. Would she punish him later? Shaking off these thoughts, he thrust up his hips, pressing the outline of his throbbing erection against her lower stomach. Her shaky, shallow breaths were driving him mad. 

He had perhaps expected that she would rock her hips against him, rub herself on him like a cat in heat. Tom should have known better than to predict her reactions. She slid her hand between their bodies, cupping his balls and the base of his erection, adding yet another layer between his cock and the sweet cunt he so desired. His lips went slack against her neck. She knew just how much pressure to apply, knew what drove him wild better than he himself did. After all, she was his mistress. She also knew he hadn’t been granted permission to cum for the past three days. 

His hand fisted her hair tightly, pulling on it and giving her no choice but to look up at him. She was beautiful like this; he had never seen her from this angle. Like a black rose, it was beautiful to look at, but unnatural. She then had the audacity to grin, her hand never stopping its languid caress, not even when he tilted her head so back far, she was looking up at the ceiling. The position exposed all her elegant neck to him. Tom could spot the frantic pulsing of her artery just next to the hickey he had sucked onto her skin. He should cover her in hickeys, he decided; her neck, of course, but also her collarbones, her breasts, the dips on her hips and the skin on her inner thighs that was softer than velvet and silk combined. 

An opportunist, she had used his short distraction to loosen up his belt just enough to slither her small hand inside his trousers and boxers. He gasped at her touch, warm breath puffing against her skin before he seized her wandering hand without a warning, pinning it on the wall above her head. 

Tom glared down at her, nostrils flared and eyes dark; a silent warning. She wasn’t used to submitting, he wasn’t even sure she had done it before. He half expected her to call out their safe word, to say ‘opium’ and have him stop it all. He halted, giving her the chance do so, even as he desired nothing more than to throw her on the bed and fuck her into the mattress. He had the strength for it, he could overpower her easily anytime, but his limbs didn’t obey. It felt forbidden, even with her permission. 

She chuckled devilishly as if his grip on her hair didn’t cause her any pain even when she did so. “That’s it, big boy? Where did all that fury of yours go?” She was egging him on again. And for a moment, he was able to picture it in his mind. The large, burning imprint of his hand on her ass, the smudged mascara underneath her eyes as he made her choke on his cock. “Cat got your tongue and your brain?”

That did it. “Shut up,” Tom ordered at the same time as he pulled her off the wall, steering her to the bed with his grip on her head before forcefully throwing her down on the mattress face first. Spotting the zipper running along the back of elegant silk dress, he gave the garment a chance but ended up ripping it open at the seams when it got stuck. His patience was running out. “Scoot over. I want you right in the centre.” 

She did as he asked without a single word. Moving to the middle of the mattress, she left behind her torn dress and lied down on her back, showing off her lingerie. It was black and lacy, and intricate. He wanted to destroy it the same way you felt driven to pluck the prettiest flower. She propped herself up on her elbows, spreading her legs and showing him her pretty little cunt through the crotchless panties as Tom took his time taking off his clothes at the end of the bed. 

“You’re such a wanton vixen,” he told her. His fear that he was perhaps taking it too far was stilled when he watched her fingers graze over her clit. “Don’t touch what’s mine.” She obeyed, though she sported a Cheshire cat grin. It would be gone soon. 

Tom crawled his way over her body, his broader shoulders caging her in, a growl escaping his throat as his pulsing cock slid along the warm skin of her thigh, leaving behind a trail of precum. He brought his face to hers and she parted her lips, expecting a kiss. He bit down on her neck instead, not strongly enough to draw blood but enough for it to sting. And sting it did, her back arching up like a tense bow. 

Freeing one hand, he opened the front of her bra with no struggle. The lace fell apart, revealing her ample breasts to his eyes. Tom inhaled sharply at the sight of her pebbled nipples before sliding lower and seizing one between his teeth, nibbling on the sensitive nub mercilessly. Her lips canted up against his as she moaned, head thrown back against the pillow. She was enjoying it, her hand clutching his curls firmly, but not pulling him off. In fact, he decided, she was enjoying this way too much. 

Tom let go of her breast, grinning at the offended look she shot him. She wasn’t used to being denied her pleasure. A bit hypocritical, he sniggered. He was determined to make her regret all those times she had tied him to the headboard, the hours she had spent teasing him, edging him, leaving him wanting, the bloody cock cage she had made him wear for a week after disobeying her. “As much as I love your pretty face, I have other plans for you tonight.” He groaned, and then without giving her time for the words to sink in, he spun her around on her belly. 

She tried raising herself up on her elbows, but Tom didn’t let her, applying enough pressure between her shoulder blades to get the message across. Still, somehow, she managed to turn her head sideways, mouth parted as she struggled for air. “You’ll pay for this, darling,” she promised all too confidently but didn’t utter the safe word. He spanked her ass.

“Let us first see if you’re still able to do anything after this,” Tom teased as he forced his knees between her legs, prying them open and putting her tempting cunt on display. She smelled ripe. 

Holding himself up on one hand next to her head, he moved to cover her body with his, casting a shadow all around her frame. With his free hand, Tom gripped his cock. He was still hard. Not that it was a surprise: when was he ever not hard in her presence? 

Tom stroked his iron shaft twice before moving his long fingers to her core. Her probed at her warm, delicate folds. She was wet, though not soaked the way she only got after he’d spent ages worshipping her pussy. He guided himself to her entrance, making her feel his glans pressing against her opening. 

This would hurt sweetly without more foreplay – she was a small, little thing and him the opposite. And yet, she didn’t even flinch, her eyes didn’t waver, quite the contrary. She was daring him to do it, looking back at him over her shoulder with curled lips. Tom had never been allowed inside her without her explicit permission – often after pitiful begging on his part. Gauging her reaction, he pointed his cock at her tiny puckered hole instead. Her eyes widened and she inhaled sharply, preparing herself for the painful intrusion. Still no safe word. She was tough to crack, Tom realised, not unimpressed before aligning himself with her pussy again. He didn’t dare take her last virgin hole with no preparation, desecrate his mistress like that. 

His arm shook as he held up his weight. One thrust, that’s all it would take. He’d fuck her the way he had imagined himself doing countless times before, when his love for her blurred at the border between hatred and love, enmity and devotion, when she deemed his begging not sincere enough or made him plead even for an orgasm by his own hand like a dutiful puppet. 

He wanted nothing more than to have his cock engulfed by her warmth. His cock begged him for it. She was waiting for him to thrust in, propping up her ass invitingly, the slope of her back acute. She was beautiful, face up or face down. She was everything Tom had ever desired in a woman. And yet, to him, she looked wrong in this position. He groaned in frustration, sweaty curls clinging to his forehead as his arm kept shaking. This was not how she was meant to be taken, to be pleasured. Just like you wouldn’t drink champagne from a dirty, plastic goblet, Tom couldn’t bring himself to fuck her like this, like an animal. 

Letting out the most frustrated of growls, he seized her shoulder, turning her around without a warning before letting himself fall down on the mattress next to her. “I can’t do it,” he confessed, voice cracking. 

Tom saw in the way her lips suddenly smirked and her eyes twinkled, finally understanding why she had never seemed apprehensive. His mistress had known all along he wouldn't be able to go through with it, even if he himself thought he could. She had called him on his bluff and won. 

"Of course, you could not do it, darling," she cooed, sitting up next to him. "Do you want to know why?" Her fingers traced the line of his jaw almost condescendingly. 

Tom swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing as he stared up at her. His previous boldness had left without leaving a trace. "Please, mistress." 

She smiled again even as she slid a leg over his chest, enclosing him between the warmth of her thighs. And then, leaning down, she whispered into his ear as if sharing a great secret. "Because, my sweet boy, it’s not in your nature to take by force. You want to please me and earn what I give to you.” She murmured seductively. “Am I wrong?" 

Tom shook his head almost at once, the need to please her surging in him at her words. She was never wrong, not when it came to him. And when she moved up to sit on his face, all he could do was mouth a breathless thank you for being allowed to touch her even after his misbehaving before his need to be her good boy drove him to her cunt. 

She kept one hand wrapped tightly in his curls, the other one holding onto to the headboard to keep steady. Her sweet Tom was indeed very talented with his tongue, she barely had to guide him at all but that still didn't mean she'd let go of her tight grip anytime soon. "Such a good boy," she praised him, more breathless than she liked to admit. "Licking your mistress's cunt so well." Tom whimpered against her clit; praise always got him needy and she enjoyed his desperate sounds almost as much as she did his tongue. 

Close to orgasm, she decided to reward him for his eager work. Her hand left the headboard, searching for his to place it on her breast. She moved her eyes, finding that his hand was no longer clutching the bed sheets in desperate need like it had been seconds ago. 

Craning her neck backwards to look over shoulders even as the first pleasures started sparkling and erupting from her clit, she spotted his hand snaking along his side to his weeping cock which had already formed a small, sticky puddle on his navel. 

She managed to seize his disobedient hand just before she came, twisting and squeezing it painfully in her fist even as she rocked against his face through the waves of her orgasm, with no regard to his breathing. 

With one last deep breath even as Tom still lapped at her juices, she moved away from his mouth and went to straddle his chest, covering him in her slick. He was panting, eyes closed with a furrow between his brows even as she felt him thrust up his hips into thin air, seeking an inexistent friction. What a sweet, needy boy, too bad he couldn't control himself. 

Before she could even say anything, Tom apologised the moment his eyes blinked open. "I'm sorry, mistress," he exhaled. 

She rubbed his bruising knuckles with her thumb, etching a look of concern on her face and she saw the way his expression visibly relax at her soft smile. God, she loved toying with him, especially when he misbehaved. "You'll make up for your disobedience with your big cock, won't you, darling?" She cooed. 

The thought of finally sinking his cock inside had him nodding eagerly at her, sweaty curls bouncing like a halo around his angelic face. "Yes, mistress. Anything you want." 

Oh, she wanted this alright, she mused as she reached out her hand to gently cup his cheek, a smile ghosting on her lips. She scooted over, moving backwards to straddle his hips. His cock was the prettiest shade of pink and the hardest kind of iron. 

With a finger she lightly traced the vein running along the underside of his shaft, noticing how he moaned even as he fought the urge to rock up against her touch. It was adorable, the way he was trying to be good now that she’d chastised him. She decided not to tell him it was too late for any of that now. 

Instead, she slid her wet cunt along his shaft, the frown of desperate concentration on his eyes more than making up for the slight discomfort on her sensitive folds. How long since she had last let him cum, she wondered, knowing this was going to be torture for him. The loud gasp that escaped his throat when she wrapped her hand firmly around the base of his cock only served as further proof. 

Tom's eyes were bright and wide, unable to focus on a particular image as his mistress lowered herself on his desperate cock; the sight of himself disappearing inside her tight channel, the bouncing of her breasts as she moved languorously and languidly, or perhaps, those five seconds of deep intake of air during which her eyes closed and her face lost that regal composure of hers before she got used to the stretch. 

"How does that feel, darling?" She asked him with the smile of someone who already knew the answer, in rhythm with her riding of him. She never moved with short, clear-cut thrusts, her hips smoothly undulating instead in a way that had him helpless and feeling the tightening in his gut surging way too soon. 

"Very good, mistress," he managed to reply though it came out strangled, his muscles have begun tensing and his fingers itching to touch his mistress. Tom knew better this time. 

She seemed satisfied with his response, picking up a faster pace above him. Watching Tom's face contort with bliss brought her just as much pleasure as the rutting of his cock. Tendons straining against his throat, eyes tightly shut and anguished whimpers escaping his parted lips. She anticipated his pleas the moment Tom opened his eyes like a wild animal blinded by the lights. "I need to cum. Please, mistress," he begged, knuckles turning white around the crumpled bedsheets. "Please let me cum." 

Her hand moved to his throat, finger pads digging softly into his skin for balance. He loved her hand there, it was a reassurance and a threat all at once and he keened under her touch. She shook her head softly. "No." 

The single word startled him as much as her increased pace. He was too close, he wouldn't be able to- "Please, mistress," Tom whined and blabbered, tears welling at the corners of his eyes before running down his sharp cheeks as he fought his release until his muscles trembled. 

Still, she took no mercy, shushing him with a finger on his lips. As her orgasm crept closer at a dizzying pace, the look of focus and torment on his sweet, angelic face became almost too much to bear. He was trying so hard to be her good boy, it was beyond adorable. 

So, when she tightened around him like a vice as bliss took over her mind and Tom let out the loudest strangled moan, she knew he was bound to fail her command no matter his determination and finally took pity on his anguish. "Cum for me, darling." 

Tom tried to thank her for the privilege of filling her with his cum but his control burst at her permission before he was able to say anything intelligible. Instead, he cried out as he came in her, spurt after spurt. 

Still coming down from her own high, she climbed off of Tom and then sat down next to him, moving his head to rest on her thigh. She decided to reserve his punishment for tomorrow, noticing his need for aftercare. She'd learned to expect his vulnerability after an orgasm, his longing to be held tightly and true enough, he moved to his side and hugged her waist. "You're okay, darling?" She asked, or rather, cooed. 

Tom nuzzled into her thigh, a soft smile on his thin lips. "Yes, mistress, thank you," he mumbled against her skin and then she heard the slight shift in his voice. "I am sorry, for earlier..."

She smiled down at him, brushing his sweaty curls off of his forehead. "I know, sweetie."

It was a struggle then to get him out of bed and into the bathroom, with him holding on to her for dear life. But a small order from her and Tom complied, following her into the shower where she had him kneeling on the floor before her with his face pressed to her sternum as she washed his hair. Her sweet boy wouldn’t like what tomorrow held for him.


End file.
